


Misty Mornings

by ContreParry



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, The Tiniest Bit of Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: Mornings in Skyhold are quiet affairs.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Misty Mornings

It was dark when she woke up.

Cullen felt her breathing change, felt the hitch in her breath, felt the way she jolted from peaceful slumber to wakefulness like lightning streaking across the sky. He felt her shift behind him, pull her arm away from his waist, her breathing shallow and quiet as she slowly extracted herself from his side. She always left the bed with as little fuss and noise as possible, as if she was imitating a ghost and wished to leave no trace of her presence in his tower as she disappeared into the misty mornings.

But, unlike a ghost, Evelyn Trevelyan was a solid, living being. And, unlike a ghost, he always knew when she was around. Her side of the bed was still warm. Her pillow smelled like her- a bit earthy and green, like sage or rosemary, and a sort of spice, clove scent. And, of course, she was quiet, but he could still hear her as she shifted off the bed and got ready for the day.

“Blast,” she muttered under her breath, and Cullen nearly bit his lip in the effort to smother his chuckle. She must have placed her feet on the cold wood floor. There were hasty footsteps, more soft curses (“Blast, drat, Maker’s Balls it’s cold!”), and a sharp intake of breath when she stepped on the creaky board. The rustle of cloth suggested that she was getting dressed. All the while Cullen pretended to sleep, breathing slowly, evenly, deeply, waiting for the sun to rise.

Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he let her know that her dawn departures didn’t go unnoticed, at least by him. Sometimes he wondered if she was ashamed, embarrassed by what they were engaging in, but he quickly put the thought out of mind. She was hardly subtle in other areas of their life in Skyhold. Everyone knew of their relationship, and Evelyn never denied it when asked. Maker’s Breath, many people felt free to comment on what was between them! Even their closest companions loved to remark on the two of them walking out of the other’s rooms in the frosty mornings.

“Early meeting with the Inquisitor, Commander?” Leliana would ask every time Cullen made in to the War Room before Evelyn. “I do hope you let her sleep last night.”

“I had a runner bring you and the Inquisitor breakfast,” Josephine would say with just enough kindness to mask the teasing note in her voice. “I trust you both approved?”

“Ugh,” Cassandra would always roll her eyes and try to hide the smile on her face. “You could try and romance her instead of sneaking about like naughty children.”

Cullen didn’t quite know how to explain that he _would_ romance Evelyn Trevelyan, but that she seemed to hate the very idea. Ever practical and proper, his Evelyn, though he sometimes wondered if she hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do with romance if it were presented to her. You didn’t really dream of romance in a Circle. No, that was a lie. You had dreams. You knew what romance was, you longed for it, it ached and burned inside and _hurt_ , because it was forbidden. Templars must give all of themselves to the Order. There was nothing left for romance. For love.

Mages weren’t even allowed to dream. It was no wonder that she was practical, that she carefully crafted walls of well-reasoned arguments for her behavior, her feelings. Every little dream was forbidden, so she guarded what little dreams she had with the ferocity of a lioness. Romance was… it was bigger than either of them were used to. It was no wonder they were both wary. It was no wonder they crept out of each other’s rooms at dawn and ignored the teasing of their friends. They were simply protecting little dreams.

The bed dipped under her weight as she sat down. Evelyn was lacing up her boots now, and Cullen knew she would soon clamber down the ladder and unlock his tower door before locking it behind her. She would race across the battlements and into her chambers, dress into something fresh, and then go about her day. Perhaps Evelyn would read her correspondence. Perhaps she would write a letter or two. She would certainly try to walk in the gardens for a bit of air before running up to the War Room. Whatever the case, the quiet softness of the morning would be gone in a few moments, and while he could roll over and drag her back into bed (she was so close, he could convince her that starting an hour later than usual was fine, just this once), Cullen kept his eyes closed and breathed in slowly and deeply.

A hand brushed against his cheek, calloused and cool against his warm skin. Evelyn. Her hand drifted down to the blanket edge gathered around his waist and curled around the thick wool. She hesitated for a moment, the skin of her knuckles brushing against the sharp jut of his hip, then pulled the blanket up and over him. She draped the soft wool over his shoulder, and the bed shifted under them again as Evelyn leaned up and over him. Her hair (loose, she never wore it loose and down) brushed against his face like a curtain.

“Get some more sleep, love,” Evelyn murmured against his forehead, and then she was gone, clambering down the ladder. The lock on the door clicked open, the door creaked, and Evelyn shut it behind her. The lock clicked closed.

Cullen rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He watched as the dark sky slowly morphed into a soft grey tinged with pink and the air filled with birdsong and the sound of Skyhold waking up. He would roll out of bed, get dressed, and pretend that nothing happened the night before. He’d be perfectly professional and ignore the gentle teasing, and he’d dream that, someday, they would have the courage to walk out in the mornings together, instead of sneaking out at dawn and pretending that they hadn’t. He had many dreams now, dreams he had never considered before. Templars did not dream, after all, but now, with the Inquisition… well, dreams seemed a little less impossible than before.

Until then, he and Evelyn could keep these little dreams a secret between them and the misty mornings.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a reddit comment that was floating around somewhere about a man who pretends to be asleep when his wife wakes up early for work because she'll tuck the covers over him. It was so sweet and loving that this small short was born!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
